


prepared with love

by puddingcatbeans



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Comfort Food, Cooking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Food, Friendship, Gen, comfort cooking?, tiniest bit of bonrin if you squint real hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:14:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21897244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puddingcatbeans/pseuds/puddingcatbeans
Summary: In the kitchen, things go right for Rin. He can turn off the heat, put out the fire, clean and organize the ingredients. He can produce something good. Something that doesn’t leave anybody bruised and bloody.on self-taught cooks and how to make a meal taste good. (hint: food is always better when shared.)
Relationships: Fujimoto Shirou & Okumura Rin, Okumura Rin & Okumura Yukio, Okumura Rin & Suguro "Bon" Ryuuji
Comments: 51
Kudos: 463
Collections: Blue_no_Exorcist, escapism (to forget that the world is a burning hellscape)





	prepared with love

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to the fic that's been lovingly named "masterchef rin" in my docs. i'm literally always ready to burst into tears about okumura rin. let the boy cook in peace. 
> 
> i tagged this as canon compliant bc it's set in the canonverse, but i kind of flubbed the canon timelines in the latter half of the story because the anime and manga kind of gets on a train and doesn't pause. also i can't keep track of shima's back and forth, so forgive me for that and be distracted by the idea of food. TINIEST ALLUSIONS TO MANGA SPOILERS. (also bonrin if you squint.)

Maruta injures his arm and for a week, all their meals come from convenience stores or restaurant takeout. At one point, someone mentions that this is probably bad for the kids, so Rin and Yukio watched from the dining table as Shiro and the other priests attempt to make a pot of curry. The pot lasts for about two days, before Izumi dumps the entire thing and its chunky, unchewable meats down the sink.

By the start of the second week that Maruta’s arm is out of commission, Rin has had enough. He can’t take it anymore. And even though everyone is polite about it, he knows that everyone is silently praying for Maruta to recover quickly and return to the kitchen soon. So he commandeers the kitchen and finds a stool he can stand on to reach the stove. Except his brilliant plan to prevent them from starving has one major flaw: he can’t exactly... cook.

But, as Shiro always says, trying never killed anyone important. 

(Rin probably heard that wrong, but it doesn’t prevent him from doing what he’s set his mind to.)

The first few tries, his chopped vegetables come out chunky and didn’t cook all the way. His  _ tamagoyaki _ was burnt and crumbly and way too sweet. His soup tasted blander than a piece of paper. Everyone else was warned to stay out of the kitchen as Rin tried to figure out how this cooking thing worked. 

They find his failed dishes on the counter and find his wobbly scowl by the stove. Rin is used to messing up and ruining things but there’s something hard to swallow about failing again and again and again. Cooking isn’t like fistfights. Cooking is something meant to be helpful, and Rin wants desperately to believe that this is something he can do. To contribute. To give back to the people that keep giving him second chances long after he stopped deserving them.

It takes him a long time.

The pot is boiling.

Rin is ninety percent sure it’s supposed to be, but the recipe he asked Kyodo to print out doesn’t really specify how long. And it’s not like Rin is any good at following instructions most of the time. He squints at the closed lid of the pot, the steam and water droplets obscuring his view of the pot’s contents. 

“Something smells like it’s burning,” Shiro remarks as he sweeps into the kitchen.

Rin squawks. He’s off the little stool in a flash and pushing with both hands at Shiro’s waist in the next. “Get out! Stinky old man!”

“Hey, it’s not safe for little pipsqueaks like you to be using the stove alone.”

“I’m not a pipsqueak! And nothing is burning! I’m cooking. I’m doing good!”

Shiro ruffles his hair, hard. It’s annoying because Rin’s hair already doesn’t listen to him, and Shiro always takes the chance to press down on his head. How is Rin supposed to grow taller if the old man keeps pressing him closer to the ground?!

“What are you not burning on the stove, then?” Shiro asks. He’s wearing that shit-eating grin of his, but Rin decides not to call him out on it.

“I’m making stew,” Rin says. “Because Yukio is sick, and stew will make him feel better.”

“Aren’t you a good brother?”

Rin puts his hands on his hips and sticks up his chin. “I’m the  _ best _ brother!”

Shiro smiles down at him. “You sure are. But aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Forgetting what?”

Raising a hand, Shiro beckons him closer. Rin leans forwards, frowning. Shiro waves at him to come closer. Rin takes another step. He turns his head so his ear is facing Shiro.

Pressing close to Rin’s head, Shiro whispers in a conspiratory manner, “Yukio hates stew.”

Rin pulls away to frown at him. “Who cares if he hates stew? Sick people can’t be choosers!”

Shiro laughs. Rin likes his laugh, the way Shiro throws his head back and lets his eyes fall shut, shoulders shaking and laughing out loud in all its booming glory. He does the same now, and Rin finds himself forgetting to scowl. 

“You’re right, Rin!” Shiro says. He claps him on the shoulders. “But I’m afraid Yukio still won’t get that stew. Your pot is drowning, son.”

“What?!” 

Rin whips around, and sure enough, the pot is overflowing, water and ruined stew sizzling on the stove. He dives towards it, but it’s too late. His hour and a half of hard work all gone along with the steam.

“Nooooo!” he cries. He spins, accusing finger already out, but Shiro has disappeared. 

A floor and three rooms away, Yukio jolts awake from a fever dream to the sound of his brother screaming curses at their father.

Rin starts to make lunch boxes for his brother and himself. It’s not that hard, just rice and a few simple dishes, some meat and vegetables. He likes how organized it is. Each food has its own compartment. Clear and easy. So unlike everything else he’s supposed to learn.

Yukio never really takes to cooking like Rin does. But he stays to help Rin put away the pots and pans after. He doesn’t shower Rin with praises like the other priests do, and he doesn’t complain about tiny details and flavours like Shiro does. Yukio finishes every lunch box that Rin gives him. And that, to Rin, is more than enough.

“Nii-san,” Yukio says, poking his head around the kitchen wall. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making tomorrow’s lunch!” Rin turns slightly on his stool. His hands are sticky with rice. “Do you want pork floss in yours? Or egg?”

“Nii-san.” Yukio steps into the kitchen, frowning. “You have homework.”

“Yeah, but food is important, Yukio.”

“Your grades are important, too.”

Rin shrugs. “I’m not failing or anything, so it’s fine.”

“We’re going to be in middle school soon, Nii-san, you have to be more serious.”

“I am serious! I’ll do my homework later, okay? I just gotta finish this first.”

Rin turns back around. He carefully stuffs the ingredients he prepared earlier on the side: tuna, cucumbers, egg, pickled plums. With both hands, he pats the rice into a round-triangle shape, and then picks up the seaweed.

Behind him, he can hear Yukio sigh. His brother doesn’t say anything else. Soft footsteps retreat back up the stairs as Rin reaches out for another handful of rice.

On his twelfth birthday, Rin wakes up to a suspiciously quiet monastery.

Yukio’s bunk is empty when he climbs down from his own bunk. That’s no surprise, his brother’s always been the morning person to Rin’s night owl tendencies. But today’s a weekend, and neither of them are supposed to have plans. 

Because today is their birthday! 

Their monastery is small, and constantly seemingly on the verge of bankruptcy, but it’s the place where they come home to at the end of the day. And the people inside it more than makes up for the old creaky building and ancient kitchen appliances. Rin knows they’re not exactly drowning in riches. Rin doesn’t care about that. Because every year, without fail, for their birthday, everyone would gather together and celebrate with a  _ sukiyaki _ dinner, and Shiro would tell them stories upon stories until they’re both tired out and falling asleep on the floor. It’s one of the best things Rin looks forward to every year.

He goes through his morning routine as fast as he can—even faster because Yukio’s not here to nag at him to brush his teeth properly and at least try to make your hair look neat, nii-san—and scrambles down the hall to the kitchen. Maybe Yukio is out with the old man. They’ve been taking field trips like that lately. Rin would be upset that he’s not invited, but he knows that he already takes up a lot of Shiro’s time because he’s a troublemaker. Yukio is better behaved, that's probably why he's allowed on field trips.

Maybe he can make some food for everyone when they come home. He's pretty sure there are enough ingredients—maybe he can try to bake a cake! It can't be that hard. Easier, even, than his attempt at making omurice because a cake is just everything mixed together and shoved into an oven, right?

He gets three steps into the kitchen before confetti poppers go off and he's standing there, stunned, surrounded by his family.

"Happy birthday, little twerp," Shiro says. 

"Nii-san," Yukio says, "open your present!"

There's a box sitting on the counter. A lopsided ribbon is slapped on top of it, but Rin doesn't mind. He rips it open. 

It's cooking supplies. Shiny new knives, a whisk, a wooden spatula, a new frying pan, a small pot. Rin stares.

"It's a gift from all of us," Izumi says.

"But," Rin starts.

"We expect you to put it to good use," Shiro tells him. He's grinning in that annoying old man way of his. "Feed us good now, you hear?"

Rin scrubs at his eyes. "I will, just you watch! I'll make the best birthday dinner!"

"I thought we were having  _ sukiyaki _ , though."

"... I'll make the best birthday breakfast tomorrow?"

"Then it wouldn't be our birthday anymore, nii-san."

"Yukioooo, you're supposed to be on my side!"

No one will ever believe him, but Rin feels most comfortable in a kitchen. Like his skin actually fit him, like his limbs actually make sense instead of just a jumble of awkwardness waiting to knock something over or start a fight.

Rin doesn’t go looking for trouble. He swears. Trouble just seems to have a homing beacon on him.

Since he’s taken over most of the cooking in the monastery, Rin’s organized the kitchen how he wanted. He knows what is in every cupboard, where the last of the onions are hiding in the fridge, which knife needs to be resharpened. The kitchen is Rin’s domain, just like school, their desks, the library, the old man’s study—just like those places are Yukio’s domain. 

He’s tried to introduce Yukio to the joy of cooking a few times. His brother is studious and earnest and Rin knows that Yukio always gives his one hundred percent in everything he does. But cooking is just not his thing. That’s alright, though. Yukio is so busy being the responsible one. Rin will cook him good food so he can cheer up and keep going!

Even if it does get a little too quiet in the kitchen sometimes. Rin’s not lonely, no. Sometimes it’s just nice to be able to share with someone the weirdly-shaped carrot he found, or the joy that comes with the first taste of the chicken broth he’s spent an hour carefully boiling. 

In the kitchen, things go right for Rin. He can turn off the heat, put out the fire, clean and organize the ingredients. He can produce something good. Something that doesn’t leave anybody bruised and bloody.

Rin shakes out his hands. He rolls up his sleeves. He opens the fridge, and gets to work.

Shiro finds him in the kitchen Wednesday afternoon. School is still in session, but Rin ditched and found himself some trouble. Not like school did him any good anyway. He’s stupid and loud and disruptive. He can’t even read the textbook because the words kept moving around. They wouldn’t miss him. 

“You can’t make me go back,” Rin says. 

Shiro crosses his arms and leans against the counter. “What do you plan on doing, then?”

Rin shrugs. He digs out a pair of chopsticks to stir the egg yolk. 

“You can’t hide out here forever,” Shiro reminds him.

“Watch me.”

“You’re going to run out of food eventually.”

“Then you guys will starve, too.”

Shiro clicks his teeth. “Rin,” he says, and it’s that quiet, serious tone that Rin hates. Because it always comes out when he’s in trouble. It’s always him, not Yukio, that makes Shiro sound so tired. 

Rin puts down the egg yolk. “I didn’t start it,” he says. “I did what you said, I tried being the bigger person. I tried to walk away. But they wouldn’t leave me alone. I tried, Shiro.”

The sigh that Shiro heaves feels like a rock sinking in Rin’s chest. “I know, kid.” Shiro walks over and puts an arm around Rin’s shoulders. It’s heavy and familiar and Rin leans into him easily.

If Rin’s eyes are a bit red-rimmed when he pulls back, neither of them mention it. Rin looks at the bowl of yolk on the counter, then back at Shiro. “Hey, old man,” Rin says. “Want me to teach you how to make an omelette?”

Shiro smiles. “If you’re feeling brave enough to eat them.”

“Naw. We’ll just feed the failures to Izumi.”

His demon side awakens, and everything goes sideways.

It’s a long, long time before he steps back into a kitchen.

After the cooking battle with Ukobach, the stove demon seems to have agreed to sharing the kitchen space with Rin. It’s as much the demon’s domain as it is Rin’s, now.

Rin’s comfort zone is still the kitchen. He feels less like he’s about to be convicted of a crime he had no intention of committing even though everyone was convinced he did. Or eventually will. Rin works on autopilot, maneuvering across the tiles like a dance ingrained in his limbs. 

Yukio is still too busy to sit down and eat with him most of the time, but Rin continues to make him lunch. He finds the empty lunch boxes washed and neatly stacked on the counter every morning. It’s something.

Shiemi comes over to study sometimes, which brings the rest of his classmates. Rin makes food because that’s the only thing he knows how to do well, and he has to do something to make up for the kindness they’re showing him. 

Then Amaimon attacks, and Rin loses control of his flames. Again.

He eats Ukobach’s food on autopilot until the demon throws down the ladle and refuses to cook. Rin stands in the kitchen for ages. His hands shake too much to hold a knife safely. Ukobach doesn’t say a word, but the stare he levels at Rin is heavy.

It takes a while. But eventually, Rin fills a pot with water, and reaches out to turn the stove on.

(Yukio doesn’t mention the week of convenience store meals. Rin doesn’t know if he notices at all.)

Kyoto sucks, not the least because everyone treats him like the local pariah and even Shura has taken to pretending to be drunk just to keep him company.

It sucks a little less when Bon’s mother lets him use the kitchen. She didn’t, at first, because the inn is busy feeding everyone and there’s a lot of work to do. But Rin was in everyone’s way and it looked like they needed help.

So he helped.

“You know your way around a kitchen, huh?” the head cook comments.

Rin shrugs. “Years of practice.”

“There’s no amount of practice that can replace passion, boy. If you like something, be proud of it.”

Rin ducks his head, cheeks warm for some reason. He adjusts his grip on the peeler in his hands, and makes quick work of the potatoes.

The content smiles on everyone’s faces after the meal is almost enough to chase away the hollowness growing in his stomach. When Rin parks himself in the kitchen again the next day, no one said a word. The cook gives him a small smile, and Rin catches Bon’s mother looking in a few times. But no one shies away from him like he’s got the plague. So Rin keeps his head down. He cooks.

Ever since the omurice he served the temple trio, his classmates have been coming over occasionally to bug him into cooking for them. Rin doesn’t mind, honestly. It’s nice to have someone to talk to while he cooks, and it’s even nicer to have someone talking back. It’s definitely much nicer than the way everyone was skirting around him after learning of his demon blood.

Shima makes ridiculous demands when Rin’s already halfway to plating, Shiemi asks questions about the ingredients, Izumo offers critiques that are undermined by the way her face turns red when she eats. Konekomaru mostly plays with Kuro, but Bon is mostly quiet. Rin feels his stare on his back, though, silent and weighty in a way that doesn’t feel uncomfortable, he just... doesn’t know what the guy is thinking.

“Here,” Rin says. He slides the last plate of grilled mackerel across the table. “Dinner is served.” 

“It looks really good, Rin,” Shiemi says. Her smile is as beautiful and soothing as always.

“Well, hurry up, then,” Shima says. “We’re hungry.”

Rin blinks at him. He points at the food on the table. “Eat, then?”

“We’re waiting for you, dummy,” Izumo.

“Why?”

Bon huffs. He stands up and steers Rin into an empty seat, slapping a pair of chopsticks in front of him. “You’ve already cooked for us. So eat with us, man.”

“I don’t—”

“A meal is better with friends, right, Rin-kun?” Konekomaru pipes up.

Rin blinks some more. “We’re friends?” It slips out of his mouth before he could stop it. He can’t really read the expression that flickers across the others’ faces, but it makes his chest twinge. He claps his hands loudly. “Ah, whatever! I’m starving from all the cooking!” 

Konekomaru is right. It’s the best meal Rin has tasted in a long time.

Rin startles awake to the sound of someone pounding on the front doors. Kuro isn’t hissing so he figures it’s not someone out to kill him. Any more so than the people he regularly gets himself mixed up with, anyway. Briefly, he wonders if it’s Yukio, but then remembers that his brother has a key to the dorms. 

Rin yanks open the door to find Bon, fist still raised to knock again. “What?”

“Here,” Bon says, shoving a plastic bag at Rin. It’s loaded with vegetables and meat. Rin looks back up at him, confused. “I’m hungry,” is all Bon says.

“We have a cafeteria,” Rin says, even as he’s stepping aside to let the other boy in. “And I’m pretty sure you guys have a kitchen, too. Though, yeah, my kitchen is way bigger and way better, but still, you didn’t have to walk all the way up here—”

“Were you busy?”

“Hah? No.”

“Did you have plans today other than moping around in bed?”

“Wha—I don’t  _ mope _ —”

Bon puts his hands on the counter and fixes Rin with a flat stare. “When was the last time you went and visited Shiemi? Or came and bothered Konekomaru about going to see the stray cats in town? I know you haven’t been going to class. You might be on house arrest but that doesn’t mean you have to disappear, dumbass.”

Rin busies himself with taking the groceries out of the bag. “I thought you guys were all busy. You know, with the Order kind of falling apart and all the betrayal and stuff.”

“Busy with what? We’re stuck here just as much as you are.”

“Yeah, but like—You know, you had that thing with Shima—I mean, I know he’s sort of back and all, but. And Shiemi, you know, she really liked Yukio, right? So I thought it’d probably not be a good idea to remind her that he’s gone while I’m... not.”

“What are you talking about?”

Rin turns, going to wash the green shallots. “It’s my fault, you know. I’ve always been the problem child. I get into fights and don’t know when to stop. I’m supposed to be the demon. Yukio was always just trying to do the right thing. He’s always fixing up my mess. And I never bothered to make sure he’s okay. I should have tried harder to talk to him. But it’s too late now, right? There’s nothing else I can do. Probably shouldn’t, in case I fuck up any mo—”

“Rin.”

He shuts up at the use of his given name. Bon never uses that unless he’s serious. Well, he’s always serious. More serious, Rin supposes. 

“Rin,” Bon repeats. “We’re worried about you.”

“Ah,” says Rin. “Don’t worry, Shura’s been keeping an eye on me. I’m not going to go berserk or whatever. You guys are safe.”

“No, we’re not—We’re worried about  _ you _ , Rin. Okumura-sensei—we all lost a friend, but you—you lost your brother. Have you talked to anyone since?”

Rin slams down a chopping board harder than necessary. “What’s there to talk about?” he says, bitterness seeping through the words. He’s tired, he realizes. He’s been going to bed right after dinner—if he remembers to eat after feeding Kuro—but there’s exhaustion lingering in his very bones. He hasn’t felt this weary since... since the old man died.

“You have friends, you know.”

“Well, maybe I shouldn’t!” Rin slaps the slab of meat onto the board. “Maybe you guys should stay the hell away from me, because everything I touch seems to go bad. Or die! I’m a curse, I’ll probably kill you all like I killed Shiro!”

“Rin, what—”

“He was sent to kill us,” Rin says. He turns around to glare at Bon. “The Blue Night. He should have rid the world of us, of me, back then, but the old man’s got a stupid soft heart. Instead, he took us and raised us like his own sons. That’s where I got my stupid from! He took us in, Satan-stained children, and now the whole world’s gotta pay for it.”

Silence echoes through the kitchen. Rin stares down at his shaking hands. Kuro is nowhere to be found, and Ukobach never shows his face when there’s someone else here. For the first time in a long time, the kitchen feels like a foreign place.

“Hey,” Bon says eventually. He steps around the counter, crossing the space cautiously. Rin doesn’t move. Bon doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of Rin. 

“What,” Rin bites out.

Bon waits until Rin finds the courage to look up and meet his gaze. There’s a frown tugging the corners of his mouth down, but Rin can’t read the look in his eyes. It makes Rin feel like he’s small again, back when he would hide in Yukio’s bed during thunderstorms on the pretense that he was protecting his brother. The truth is, Yukio was never the one afraid of the storms. 

“You’re not a demon,” Bon says. 

“I’m—”

“You may have demon blood in you, but you’re not a monster,” Bon continues over Rin’s protests. “You’re loud and impulsive and messy. You fall asleep all the time during lessons, you never listen to instructions during missions, but you know what? You treat Shiemi like an equal even though she’s been told all her life that she was too delicate for more than her garden. You make Izumo honest. You know how to cheer Konekomaru up, you don’t let Shima get away with shit. You try your best to take care of your brother even when he’s actively keeping you in the dark. You listen to your friends and you look people in the eyes and dare them to be as good of a person as you are. You cook for us and you’re there for us even when we couldn’t do the same for you. 

“You’re not a monster, Rin,” Bon says quietly. “You’re a good person. And we’re so goddamn lucky to have you as a friend.”

Rin lets the words wash over him, sink into him. It’s weird. He’s started thinking of Bon as his friend for a long while now, and he’s gotten used to study sessions where Bon hits him with a notebook when he dozes off but entertains his dumb questions about lesser demons. He knows that Bon doesn’t really like the texture of tofu but he likes berry-flavoured sweets. It’s weird, because Rin has never had friends before the Exwires and now he can’t imagine anything else.

It’s weird, because in that moment, Rin’s suddenly reminded of Shiro, with his wire-framed glasses and toothy grin, patting Rin on the head and saying, “You’re a good brother, Rin. You’re a good kid for a brat.”

Rin turns away. He pokes at the meat. “You know, this is pretty good meat. What do you feel about  _ sukiyaki _ ?”

(If Bon sees Rin swipe at his eyes with his sleeve, he doesn’t say a word.)

“Hey, pass the mixer.”

“No, not yet, we haven’t put in all the ingredients yet!”

“Hey, watch out for the cord!”

“The eggs, Bon, don’t spill it—”

A loud clang of metal bowls hitting the counter and a bag of flour upending onto the floor. Poor Konekomaru is tangled up in the electric mixer’s cord, and Shima is scooping icing into his mouth shamelessly. Izumo is yelling at the boys, Shiemi is trying to look for the instructions, and Bon is attempting to mix the ingredients by hand. 

Rin stands to the side, Kuro perched on the sink next to him, watching the spectacle of his friends attempting to bake a cake. There’s flour everywhere and milk spilled on the counter. Someone had tripped and cracked an egg over Yukio’s head. He’s still scrubbing vigorously at his glasses, even though Rin knows he has several backup pairs upstairs. 

It’s a right mess. Ukobach had went into hiding as soon as he saw the amount of people squeezing into the kitchen. Rin didn’t blame him. Even when he was too small and needed a stool to reach the stovetop, he never made such a mess. A clean kitchen is a great chef’s best-kept secret ingredient.

But, Rin thinks as he watches Izumo wrestle the icing from Shima and Shiemi untangle Konekomaru, he doesn’t think he minds this mess at all.

“Oi, Okumura,” Bon says, strong arms still mixing steadily. “Don’t just stand there. Are we doing this right? Or are you just going to let us give everyone food poisoning?”

Rin rolls his eyes. “I know how to cook but I’m not a baker, you know?”

“Same difference.”

“Nii-san,” Yukio calls. “Should we pre-heat the oven?”

Rin looks at the gathering in his kitchen. Ukobach is going to be furious when they’re all done. He grins. Rin rolls up his sleeves and joins his family around the stove.

“Alright, let’s get cooking!”

**Author's Note:**

> for someone that can't be trusted in a kitchen, i sure love writing about cooking. someone pay me to write about food for the rest of my life,,
> 
> tell me your go-to comfort foods @puddingcatbeans on tumblr/twitter!!


End file.
